


a life lost

by hoverbun



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Drabble, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 19:13:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 384
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12087555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hoverbun/pseuds/hoverbun
Summary: I want nothing more than the dark silence of death itself.The wind stops, and the Harrowing comes to Zaun.





	a life lost

The wind carries the Mist and its fog over the land.

It delivers the Song to the living, returning them to the reality they came from.

With it comes a plague, virulent, catching in the lungs who breathe its toxin in and scorching them deep. Wounds ripped open and poisoned with something sour. When the Mist comes for Zaun, it suffocates those below, deep in its sumps, like a plague from the earth.

Wet air sinks deep into the lungs of the forgotten people. There is no escape when the dead come down to Zaun - Piltover has been compromised. There is nowhere to run.

Its protector wept - but she has no more tears she can shed, for she is fading.

She rests in the cusp of Mist and wind - cradled by the spirits of the Choir, who run against her thin skin and through her long hair. The Deathsinger floats above her, two forces of tempest wind and approaching death matched together. It is silent between them, words she parts with once and then left to the hum of sermon.

Karthus takes a hand of hers that hangs loosely in the air. He crosses it over her stomach, resting as a mirror of how the dead lay within their crypts on the Isles. How do they bury their dead in Zaun? There is no ocean to leave them to; the great flood from long before had already crashed through the city. Though the water is silent, it is not where the protector will sleep.

There is no place for the bodies to burn, as they would in Noxus. There is no land to bury them in, as the would in Demacia. There is only the wind to carry their souls to the beyond - yet even she, too, collapses, as her people rot in the wake of a shadow’s wrath.

“Seek the spirit’s aid,” he says, voice soft, like the roll of the tide - he wards something above her, a mark of peaceful rest upon the once Blessed Isles. “They will deliver you unto the wings of death. You will rest for eternity, child. Allow the echo you hear to still - your heart now slows.”

She is left loved by the very wind that birthed her.

They are all buried at sea, in the end.


End file.
